Remebering Sunday
by angelface04
Summary: As he’d kissed her cheek goodbye, he’d whispered the three fatal words that he’d been so careful never to say, or even hint at. I love you. [Oliver x Angelina] OneShot


**A/N: Little fic for fanfic100….gotta love Angie/Oliver angst, hmm? Oh yeah, still don't own Harry Potter…though I'm working on that.**

**Prompt 80: Why?**

* * *

**Remembering Sunday**

_Forgive me I'm trying to find  
My calling, I'm calling at night  
__I don't mean to be a bother  
But have you seen this girl?  
She's been running through my dreams  
And it's driving me crazy, it seems  
I'm gonna ask her to marry me_

* * *

He fiddled with the velvet box in his pocket for a moment, running his fingertips along the edges and popping it open to feel the ring inside of it. He felt a sudden spurt of butterflies, nausea in his stomach. He was really going to do this, huh? He managed a small smile. Tonight was going to change his life.

He knocked on her door three times, taking a deep calming breath. Sure, it was late. But he had to do this _now_. Before he talked himself out of it. Before he let her words sink in again.

No one came to the door. He waited a few more seconds, knocked a second time. She was probably in the shower or something.

"Ange?" He knocked again, curious. Maybe she was out. But she hadn't said anything about being gone today. As he waited impatiently, he ran through what he'd rehearsed in his head.

_I know you're stubborn. I know it's only been two years, I know that you don't want to hear it, but Angelina, __**I love you**__. More than anything, and I know without a doubt that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You've given me more happiness than I ever thought was possible after everything that we've been through these past few years, and I don't know who I'd be without you. You're everything I've ever needed. Angelina, will you marry me?_

Still no answer. He bit his lip, looked around. No one was around. He tapped doormat with his wand, and when he pulled it back, the key to the door had appeared. Swiftly, he unlocked it, placed the key back where it had come from, and stepped inside.

The sight that met his eyes made his hair stand on end.

It was empty. Everything was gone. Every piece of furniture, every plant, every dish. He looked around in astonishment, his mouth hanging open.

"Angelina?" He yelled, hurrying to the back of the flat, searching the bathroom and the bedroom. It was clean and empty, almost as if she'd never been here at all. His hands began to shake.

Her clothes were gone, her paintings, her broomstick in the corner, her bed that he'd _just slept in_. Everything. He found his breath coming in short gasps, his chest tight.

What was going on?

He swallowed hardly, exiting the flat and scratching his head, his mind moving at a million miles an hour. He felt as if he were moving in slow motion. Had something happened? Was she all right? She hadn't been robbed, had she? Who would steal _everything_ in her entire apartment?

He found himself knocked on the neighbors door roughly, urgently. The door creaked open after a few minutes of solid pounding. The wizard that answered was cubby and grisly, his beard unshaven, his nightshirt barely coming to his knees.

"Wassamatter?"

"I'm really sorry to bother you." Oliver managed, gesturing to Angelina's apartment. "But have you seen the witch that lives there? I can't seem to find her, and I'm pretty worried." The wizard shrugged, looking at Oliver disdainfully.

"Haven't seen her." And then promptly shut the door in his face. Oliver groaned, running his hands through his hair, trying to think,_ think, think, think, Wood, think. _

His feet began to move of their own accord, his fist reaching up to knock on the flat to the left of her apartment. There was an answer much quicker, and a young witch, a few years older than Oliver answered.

"Can I help you?" She asked kindly. He tried to smile back at her but couldn't.

"I'm really sorry to call this late, but I was just wondering if you've seen the witch the next door lately." He gestured, once again, towards Angelina's house. "I just saw her yesterday, and - "

"Oh, Angie?" He nodded dumbly, his mouth drying up. "Yeah, I just saw her this morning. She was carrying loads of stuff outside. She looked pretty upset, too, her eyes were kind of red." He felt a jerk in his gut. "She told me she was moving."

It hit him like an anvil on the head, like one of those ridiculous cartoons where the bad guy gets a piano dropped on him or something. His fingers went numb. He'd left early that morning.

And that's when he realized his mistake.

As he'd kissed her cheek goodbye, he'd whispered the three fatal words that he'd been so careful never to say, or even hint at.

_I love you._

She must have heard him. Must have been awake. How could he have been so stupid? When he came to, the woman was looking at him with kind, yet concerned, eyes.

"Moving?" He muttered.

"Yeah."

"She say - she say where?"

"Nope. Didn't really ask either. She was quite nice, though, it's a shame to see her go."

"Yeah." He forced out around the lump in his throat. "Yeah, it is."

"Sorry I can't be of more help.

"No, no, it's all right. Thank you."

She started to close the door, but then paused. "Did you need her for something?" He shook his head gently, backing away.

"I was going to ask her to marry me."

She stood at the doorway as he walked away.

* * *

George was reading the newspaper when Oliver appeared next to him. He blinked in surprise, then went back to the article.

"Hello, mate."

"Have you seen Angelina?" George caught the hint of panic in Oliver's voice and slowly set his paper down.

"No, Ol, what's going on?"

Oliver fought to hold back tears, to hold back the feeling of out-and-out _terror_ that was creeping up on him.

"I was - I was headed over to her house, to - well - and I got there, but no one answered. So I let myself in, right, and - and everything was gone. All of her furniture, all of her books, everything. When I asked her neighbors…they - " His voice caught in his throat. "They said she moved."

"Moved?" George looked just as surprised as Oliver had felt. "Moved, and didn't tell you?"

Oliver shook his head slowly. "And I think I know why." There was silence.

"You said it, didn't you?"

"Shit!" Oliver kicked a coffee table that rattled dangerously, and George hopped up. "How could I have been so _bloody _stupid!"

"Hey, settle down. What _possessed you_ to say it?"

Oliver's head was pressed into his palms, his fingers twined into his hair. She'd said that she liked it long, so he was growing it out. _Just for her_. "I thought she was asleep." He mumbled frantically. "I didn't think she'd hear it. I didn't think it through. It just came out, I couldn't stop it…"

"She's scared, Oliver." George stated. "She's realized that you're totally invested in this and you know Angie. On the pitch she'll fight you tooth and nail, but start talking about feelings and she's the first one to give up."

"I know." He could feel the breakdown coming. It was just a heartbeat away.

"After Fred - "

That was the cue. He yelled loudly, finding the nearest wall with a quick stride and smashing his fist into it as roughly as he could. "What the fuck does Fred have to do with _this_?! I mean, for god's sake, it's been two years! **Two bloody years, George, and I've been ****so**** patient!** I _know_ she loved him! I _know_ she still does, but doesn't some of her love me, too?! I **swear** FRED is her excuse for everything!"

It happened so swiftly that Oliver wouldn't have had time to duck even if he had been paying attention. The punch hit him with such force that he fell back against the wall, his hand immediately coming up to cover his jaw, pain rocking through his face and pounding loudly through every nerve of his head.

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE!" George was standing over him, red-faced and bellowing, looking angrier than Oliver had ever seen him. "HE WAS HER **ENTIRE WORLD** OLIVER! FOR FUCK'S SAKE, _YOU_ SAW THEM! SHE **LIVED **FOR HIM AND WHEN HE DIED, _SHE DID TOO_! PAIN LIKE THAT NEVER GOES AWAY!" He took a deep calming breath, turned a walked away a few feet as Oliver bit back tears.

"George, I didn't mean that - "

"I still miss him _every second_. And she's scared to fall in love again, because look what happened last time!"

"I know." Oliver could feel his jaw beginning to swell. "But I just - I guess I just hoped that I was as good as he was."

George shook his head sadly. "I don't know if you ever will be, mate."

"Yeah." Tears trickled out of the corners of his eyes, partially from the pain, but mostly because of the harsh truth of that statement. _He couldn't be better than Fred had been. _He would never measure up to the person Fred had been. His love would _never_ be enough for her. "I'm sorry, George, really." Just before he apparated, he remembered the box in his pocket. He ripped it out and threw it on the ground. "I was going to ask her to marry me. Isn't that a fucking joke?"

* * *

Twenty minutes later he was sitting at his dining room table, polishing off his tenth firewhiskey and staring out of the window as Sunday melted into Monday. He was so gone that he didn't realize that he was still crying.

He knew that soon his sadness would turn to anger, but for now, he was going to wallow in it. He was going to dwell on the image of the white dress she would've worn, and the child he would've rocked to sleep, and the look in her eyes when she would've finally said _I love you, too._


End file.
